The Heat of the Day Has Gone
by Minami-wind
Summary: Matsumoto's career as a basketball player was cut short by an injury. Realizing that he had no practical skill, he had an internship in a NGO where he met Fujima Kenji. Fujima appeared to be perfect and gradually Matsumoto felt he was drawn to him...
1. Chapter 1

**The Heat of the Day Has Gone**

(1) Life had Gone Wrong

It was at dusk, an early autumn dusk, and the heat of the day had gone. There were few people on the street, perhaps since it was the dinner time, and the city had lived through once again the traffic jam which plagued modern urban life everyday. A wind, neither as hot as one in the summer nor as cold as one in the winter, came from the space between the two lofty buildings, locating on each side of the street.

Matsumoto(松本稔), standing on the threshold of the hospital, looked up to the window of the office in which he had just had a tedious conversation with the doctor, slightly sighed, and then headed to the restaurant where he had booked a position earlier this morning.

Did he foresee the news that the doctor would reveal to him several hours later when he booked his dinner? Surely, yes. Several people, including his mother and his coach, had vouched with their heads that he would be all right, that the survey would turn out to be nothing, you, you will be on the field a few months later, worry not about this, every player gets injured sometime, as you know it very well. And now, with a bad sense of humour, he imagined the scene that he tells them the diagnosis of the doctor, and laughs that he wants their heads. No one will be laughing then, of course.

The doctor tried hard to explain to him his injury with every possible detail among which Matsumoto understood none. Yet she was a responsible doctor, admitted Matsumoto. Assuming that the basketball career must be as important as life itself to her patient, she made some effort to comfort, which seen from his view, was only useless boredom to delay his planned dinner.

He knew the result from the beginning, from the moment when he was terribly hit by the PG from Edo University. He always knew the result, and was prepared to welcome it, and now it came. He had foreseen that his career would be cut short tragically several years ago, Yes, several years ago, the sunny day at the beginning of his second year in Sannoh（山王）. The day he first met Sawakita（沢北荣治）. The Day that life had gone wrong.

There is no doubt that Matsumoto was a brilliant basketball player; in middle school, or even earlier in elementary school, his talent in this sport was never underestimated. But the thing is, if he is a brilliant player, Sawakita is Brilliance itself. Watching him playing basketball, it was like he walks in the beauty of brilliance yet he himself is unaware of it. In his mind, basketball is the one, not excellence, not glory, even not his enemy, he does not have an enemy, all he does is to enhance himself in his own design. And he always succeeds. After spending plenty of time on the bench, Matsumoto was still considered a great basketball player, otherwise he would not be admitted by his University. He knew his excellence and everyone acknowledged that. But that was Not the case. Life Had Gone Wrong.

It was not the fault of Sawakita, Matsumoto admitted. In their personal relationship, Sawakita never said anything bad to him. Indeed, he did not say anything to him, and this made Matsumoto felt all the worse.

Matsumoto once tried to describe to his best friend his complex feelings toward Sawakita and himself. His best friend laughed, and said that he must be in love with Sawakita. After that, Matsumoto had no best friend any more. He could not believe that these days human feelings have developed into such a horrible barren land that only extremes such as love or hatred could be understood while all the subtleties within the spectrum are simply lost.

He did not love Sawakita, just like he did not hate Sawakita. All he knew was that the existence of Sawakita, not Sawakita, made a difference to his life, a bad difference, so to speak. Before he met Sawakita, life was something to make, and after that, life was something that was made. Before that he wanted to play basketball, and after that basketball was impossible to him. It was only possible to man like Sawakita, and he was not like him. To make it worse, even after he had realized all of this, he had to go on playing basketball; life is a like a machine that once set up could not be easily broken down. For this reason, or for no reason at all, he continued his career for more than 5 years, and now he is a senior with failed basketball career and no practical skills.

Really, from that moment, life had gone wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

So You Have Bad Luck Today

Just like, for no reason at all, he continued his basketball career for five years after he first met Sawakita, now, for no reason either,Matsumoto was on the flight to Bangkok. A few friends, if he could call them friends at all, were discussing their arrival in Bangkok and the busy schedule for the whole day. Since they took the early morning flight from Tokyo, it would be no more than 9 when they arrive at the hotel, and after that they would be received at the NGO's multiple-function center where they were supposed to be working for the next several months. Never did Matsumoto think that he would have anything to do with the AIDS protection NGO some day; before the predictable injury happened to him, there had been a basketball career, certainly a mediocre one, waiting for him, and he had had no other choice. Now, the basketball career had gone, gone into the darkness of all the past years and would no longer bother him.

For several weeks, Matsumoto wandered around the campus, attending no classes and taking no scheduled exams. A few friends, the ones who were sitting beside him now, appeared just on time and offered him a position in their small research team which was hired by an international NGO in Thailand. They found Matsumoto because he majored in English, which he had chosen for the department's relatively high examination passing rate, and they wanted him to replace their former translator, who had been offered a last-minute internship in a hedge fund, and had withdrawn his position several days before the team's scheduled setting out.

Matsumoto had no idea on the small group's research project. But it sounded to be something interesting, or at least something not too boring. Moreover, the offer in Bangkok could save him from his home, in other words, his mother. His home is his mother. Matsumoto had not seen his father for long; people say- interestingly, there were always some "people" there saying this and saying that-he is in Africa, but other say they have seen him in Russia. God knows where he is.

As far as Matsumoto could remember, he always lived with his mother, and his mother always wanted him to play basketball for that was the only thing in which he could easily beat most other boys. After the horrible injury happened, his mother did not say anything bad to him; in fact, she treated him better than any time before, and this made Matsumoto felt all the worse, it reminded him of Sawakita, of the latter's kind, gentle harmless manner toward him. Matsumoto had no idea how his mother felt, what she thought, and what she intended to do.

The offer saved him. He did not have to play the game of guessing his mother in the following several months. That was a little good luck for him, thought Matsumoto, sitting on the flight, drinking the dark coffer offered by the crew.

In Matsumot's mind, a NGO was an equivalent to a monastery or a temple something, a place where life was easy and the pace of life was predictably slow. Yet, the reception from the NGO of his small team demonstrated false his pretentious prejudice. The reception was extraordinarily efficient; indicated by the schedule, the end of their visit in the multi-function working center would be at dusk and after that dinner would be served. Yet, when they finished their visit and had a glimpse of the nature of their future work, it was at most 3 in the afternoon and it seemed there were still a lot of things could be done. One of his friends suggested, with excitement which had been hung over him since the first second he stepped on the land of Thailand, the infirmary, where most of the patients of their research project were located and where most data were collected, would be a terrific place to go, and the others agreed with an equal excitement. Matsumoto acquiesced. HIV, Human Immunodeficiency Virus, AIDS, Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome, all these recently familiarized terminologies kept bursting into his mind, and his mind was like a background of darkness where these letters flashed like neon light in the night.

-So you have bad luck today! Said the NGO official working in the infirmary when Matsumoto's small group arrived.

-There should be some people here showing you around and introducing you all to our daily work, but they are busying themselves now. The official looked worried and Matsumoto could sense out a kind of pitiful mourning in his expression though his words were professional enough to hide most of his emotions.

-Sorry, but what happened? Matsumoto was the only one in the group fluent in English, the others were students from medical school, so the responsibility of communication had been burdened on Matsumoto since they landed on Thailand.

-A boy is declining, and they are discussing whether to send him to a larger hospital, the hospital was about thirty kilometers away from here. Answered the official and from his facial expression Matsumoto knew that he could vote against the plan. Obviously, there were no hope for the boy any more and perhaps the best thing they could do was to leave him a peaceful end.

-Perhaps we should...Before Matsumoto could finish his sentence, a flock of people in white flew into the room, and Matsumoto's small group found themselves ignored in the corner of the room.

A face came into Mastumot's sight, an East Asian face, a rather pretty, rather beautiful one, though Matsumoto could tell that the owner of the face was a man, not a woman. He would be at most of Mastumot's age, probably a little younger; that was judged from the face. Yet seen from the manner he was speaking to the others, fluent in English and composed in movement, Matsumoto thought he must be much older but have a baby-face.

Matsumoto's attention was following the pretty young man, he told himself perhaps that was because he also had an East Asian face, standing among all the Western and Southeast Asian faces, the East Asian one gave him a sense of familiarity, perhaps a little warmth.

However, left in the corner of the room and ignored, the familiarity gained from the face slipped away. Instead, a face, a wearing, dying face kept coming into his mind, appearing from a black background, gradually growing clear, and then sinking into the darkness again. He heard his friends talking in Japanese behind him, but he could not understand their words, he searched for the pretty face around the room, but the face seemed to be gone. That was all the good, said Matsumoto to himself, the contrast between the face in his mind and the face in his sight, too vivid, made him feel a kind of incomprehensibility between two worlds.

-Can someone come and help, filling some forms in English?

-Yes! Hearing the word "English," Matsumoto knew instantly it was his responsibility and he answered before he turned his back to see what his duty was.

-Excellent! Come with me. The pretty face smiled.

Matsumoto followed the pretty face to another office. Since he was at least two itches higher than his leader, he could see clearly from above the silky brown hair his leader had. Splendid, shining, like the sunshine at dusk which had already begun to caress the beach outside the infirmary.

-Are we sending the boy to the hospital? Asked Matsumoto carefully when he was directed to fill various forms, which were all about the boy's information.

-Sure, we voted and more people agreed to send him to the hospital. So you should finish the forms as soon as possible, and I'm gonna talk to the nurse.

A few minutes later when Matsumoto had just finished all the forms, the pretty face and a nurse came back. Nice job, said him to Matsumoto. The latter also squeezed a little smile, at least he tried.

The boy was sent away. Matsumoto's sight followed the ambulance, thinking that he hadn't had one glimpse of the little boy. He was called Henry, perhaps not his real name, for he was of Chinese origin but sold to Thailand somehow. When he thought of this, the wearing, dying face which had disappeared since the pretty face took him away from the reception room came back again.

-He was sent to the hospital. Matsumoto did not notice when the pretty was behind him. The pretty face did not continue. Obviously, there was nothing to be said; the boy is...Matsumoto did not continue his thought either.

-I heard you are new here. Are you and your friends from Japan? Asked the pretty face.

-Yes, and they've already told you?

-No, it was impossible to say anything just now, we were at sixes and sevens. But I could tell from your accent.

-Bad accent, I've never got a high score in speaking examination. Said Matsumoto with a little embarrassment.

-Why? I like that accent! I am also from Japan, and your accent reminds me of this. He gave Matsumoto a tolerant smile and then said, the professors are being hypercritical! If your accent's comprehensible, that's fine! He shrugged.

-What is your name? After a short pause, he asked.

-Matsumoto Minoru. Or should I say Minoru Matsumoto?

-Anything you like. People here don't care too much about what you are called as far as you have a name and when they call it you will respond. Fujima Kenji, or Kenji Fujima. They call me Fujima, but if you like you can call me Kenji.

-What's that? The bonus for a Japanese citizen? Matsumoto joked, and felt a puff of warm wind blowing into his heart.

-That's a good way to think about it. Smiled Kenji. Are you hurried to go back to Bangkok? If you are not, we can have a walk on the beach. The sun is setting and it's not that hot now.

-Sure, It doesn't matter if I return a little late. Said Matsumoto, leaving his so-called friends and the supposed dinner behind.

Kenji was right, the sun was already setting and the heat of the day had gone. The Beach was not extraordinarily beautiful; it was just typically "tropical." To Matsumoto, all the tropical seas seemed all the same. Equally different from the Japanese seas and equally tropical.

-How long are you supposed to be here? Asked Kenji, looking into the distance. His goldenly silky hair was wooed by the wind brought by the lapping waves.

-Several months. It's mainly decided by the research project of my friends. You have seen them in the reception room, and I am merely their translator. Matsumoto answered, he did not know if this answer would please Kenji, or irritate him, since he seemed to be aimless. So instead of letting Kenji ask further about his intention and purpose, he asked Kenji how long had he been here.

-I've been here since late spring, almost half a year. My internship here is academically credit one, and I could transfer it back to my University.

-So you are still an undergraduate?

-Barely an undergraduate. I'm a senior, and actually I could graduate in three years, but I decided not to and came here.

-Why are you here.

Kenji looked at Matsumoto, smiled, as if he knew Matsumoto would ask the question. -I major in public health, and...when the NGO for which I am working now were recruiting on campus, I thought perhaps I could do something different...I mean, to help others. Kenji smiled again, softly, kindly, and perhaps it was because of the glowing sunlight, Matsumoto suddenly captured a gleam of holiness on Kenji's glowing hair quivering in the wind.

-Yeah, that's also what I thought. Answered Matsumoto, a lie, of course. But, of course, he could not tell Kenji that he came here just because didn't want to guessing his mother's mind, didn't want to hear the awkward comforting words of his kind coach, and didn't want to see his basketball which lay under his bed now. That would upset Kenji, whose appearance saved him from that wearing, dying face.

-Actually, we don't usually have to face situations like today. Said Kenji. Usually, the kids are happy. Sometimes I teach them a little simple Japanese, so when you see them you could say hello to them in our mother tongue. When it is not rainy, we sometimes bring them to play on the beach at dusk, for at that time of day it's not that hot, the weather here's really torrid, and I come from Kanagawa, the whether's much cooler. And not very often, I sing some old songs for them.

-You are really treating the children well. Matsumoto grinned. I couldn't sing at all. Everyone that hears me singing would be driven mad.

-haha...laughed Kenji, I'm just trying my best, since I don't know what else I could do. I once wanted to organize a basketball match, since behind the infirmary building we have a basketball field there, but I haven't had the time to carry it out.

-Well, actually I could play a little basketball. If you like, I could do something to help. Cause...before I came here I was also thinking about doing something for the children, but none did I think of. A lie again, but Matsumoto did not care, if you've told a lie, then you've got to stick to that lie and tell hundreds of lies for it. He knew this too well.

-That would be great! Smiled Kenji. Obviously, Matsumoto's offer was out of his expectation, and now his great ambition for the basketball match could be realized. -I happened to play a little basketball before, so we can organize two teams, and either of us would be a leader of one.

-And my team will not lose.

-Well, that's hard to tell.

They were still standing on the beach, and the heat of the day had completely gone. Matsumoto even felt a little chilly when the wind turned stronger. It would rain tonight, said Kenji, so you'd better go back to Bangkok as soon as possible. On their way back to the infirmary, where the other Japanese students were impatiently waiting for Matsumoto, Kenji said, it was great to have some basketball skills, isn't it? Sure, answered Matsumoto.

-end of chapter 2-


End file.
